


A Guide To Dealing With Painful Break Ups

by amfiguree



Category: NSYNC, Popslash
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-24
Updated: 2014-01-24
Packaged: 2018-01-09 21:41:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1151115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amfiguree/pseuds/amfiguree
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On hindsight, Lance figured he should have seen it coming.</p>
<p>He was in the middle of an important transaction when Chris came barreling into his house, his bedroom, luggage in hand and looking for all the world like he'd just stepped off one of their tour buses. Lance made a mental note to get his locks changed. "Okay," Chris announced. "Call off the SWAT team. I'm here."</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Guide To Dealing With Painful Break Ups

On hindsight, Lance figured he should have seen it coming.  
  
He was in the middle of an important transaction when Chris came barreling into his house, his _bedroom_ , luggage in hand and looking for all the world like he’d just stepped off one of their tour buses. Lance made a mental note to get his locks changed. “Okay,” Chris announced. “Call off the SWAT team. I’m here.”  
  
“What the fuck are you doing?” Lance demanded, as he set his PDA aside.   
  
“I came straight to your house after my nine hour flight from Amsterdam with a suitcase and an empty stomach,” Chris shot back, without heat. “The fuck do you think I’m doing?”  
  
“Chris,” Lance said, his anger melting into wariness. They’d all learned the hard way that that was the only way to deal with him.  
  
“Lance,” Chris mimicked, cocking an eyebrow.  
  
“ _Chris_ ,” Lance repeated. If he kept at this long enough…  
  
Chris rolled his eyes. “I taught you how to do that, Bass. Now stop asking stupid questions. Where the hell do I put my stuff?”  
  
It was six weeks after they’d discussed the future of the group – ex-future, Lance thought bitterly. Six weeks after JC had assured him that N’sync was still N’sync, with or without Justin. Two weeks after JC’d officially up and changed his mind and decided to follow in Justin’s fucking solo artist footsteps.   
  
Lance had avoided JC ever since. But there was no chance in hell of doing that with Chris. He sighed in exasperation and picked his PDA up again. “You know where the guestrooms are.”  
  
There were a thousand things Lance knew he should’ve seen coming, but these days he felt like he was walking around blindfolded.  
  
  
  
Having Chris in his home definitely changed some things. For one, Lance found his answering machine plugged in and fully functioning when he got home from grocery shopping later that evening. “Fucking Kirkpatrick,” he growled. He didn’t want to talk to anyone just then, and while he’d started out screening calls, he soon realized that the better option would be to reject all of them indefinitely. He had his cell with him in case of emergencies.   
  
Lance was about to yank the cord out when he saw the blinking light. He hesitated for a second, then pressed it. He had twenty-seven new messages. Great.  
  
The first few were from his mom, Stacey, and Beth. There were a couple from Beth. Then there was one from Justin. Lance hit delete. Joey, checking in. Random telemarketers. A couple of producers with new scripts they thought he’d be interested in looking at. Joey, again.  
  
Lance was on the second last message when the machine whirred. “You’ve reached the Bass household of porny love.” He recognized Chris’ voice immediately, and his eyes widened. How had he not seen this coming? “Unfortunately, Lance is out fishing,” here, Chris snorted. “And I’m too busy watching porn to pick up the phone. If you still want in on the action, leave a name, number, and brief description of your hot bod after the tone. You’ll be hearing from our manager.”   
  
Jesus. Fuck. Had his mother heard that? Lance was too busy sputtering in disbelief when the message ended to pay attention to the person on the other end of the line straight away. There was a pause. Then a voice said, “Oh man, the Bass household of porny love? What happened to not leaving Chris alone for more than fifteen minutes?”  
  
JC.  
  
Immediately, Lance panicked. He reached around the table, and switched the machine’s power off. His fists were clenched when he straightened up again. “Kirkpatrick!” he yelled.  
  
  
  
Chris never really explained why he was there, but it didn’t take long for Lance to adjust to having him around: he locked his gadgets up in his study, and pulled out the old x-box that Justin had gotten him the previous year (more for his sake than Lance’s), and made two cups of very black coffee in the morning instead of one.  
  
In Chris’ defense, he was a pretty decent houseguest once he had something to occupy him, and it was easy to slip back into their routine banter.  
  
The next week, they flew out to New York for Joey’s wedding. JC was there, and so was Justin, and Lance had to swallow the bitter taste in his mouth when Joey made them all sit together to watch the procession. But Lance could put up with that, for Joey’s sake.   
  
And the wedding was beautiful. There was no other word to describe it. When Brianna walked down the aisle with the bouquet in her hands, Lance’s heart tugged painfully in his chest. Kelly was right behind her, and the look on Joey’s face was like nothing Lance had ever seen before. He was the first one on his feet once they’d been pronounced man and wife.   
  
The reception, though, was a little harder to get through. They hadn’t all been in the same room like this since the last CftC. Lance considered ignoring JC and Justin, but Justin was a huge deal now, and there were about a hundred different people who wanted to talk to him. JC, on the other hand, was grabbed by Chris the second he was close enough, then given a noogie that made him snort with helpless laughter, so Lance really didn’t have to worry about not talking to them at all.  
  
Watching them made Lance’s chest twinge in an entirely different way.  
  
Somehow, he wound up by the open bar, and by the time Joey joined him, he was pleasantly buzzed, enough that he didn’t mind the fact that he could feel JC’s eyes on him from across the room. “Hey, man,” Joey grinned, as he grabbed a seat and downed the rest of Lance’s half-finished drink. “You having fun?”  
  
“Oh, yeah,” Lance nodded. He stopped doing that when the world began to spin. “Yeah. You know, you should get married more often, Joe.”  
  
“Sure,” Joey laughed, as he waved the bartender over. “Right after Kelly drives a stake through my heart.”   
  
“Anyway, I think it should be your turn next, don’t you?” Lance heard someone ask. He turned to see a pretty blonde girl sitting beside him, eyes wide and guileless.  
  
It took him a couple of seconds to actually register the question. He blinked once he had, and his mouth twitched for reasons he couldn’t understand. Chose not to understand. “That’s hilarious,” he giggled. “Me getting married! Joe, don’t you think that’s hilarious?”  
  
Except Joey wasn’t there when Lance turned around. But JC was, and he was smiling, and Lance blinked as his laughter faded. Something about the way JC was looking at him made him very, very thankful for the fact that he didn’t have jeans on. _Pissed,_ he reminded himself. _You’re supposed to be pissed._  
  
“Hi, Lance,” JC said.  
  
Lance polished off the rest of his drink, excused himself and went to take care of things.   
  
  
  
Even when he was drunk, Lance was pretty good at avoiding people he didn’t want to see. Which meant that he didn’t see JC for the rest of the night. Unfortunately, Lance’s skills of avoidance didn’t translate when it came to people who were actively seeking him out.  
  
Although that wasn’t exactly true, either, since Lance had been expecting room service, and would never have opened the door to his hotel room if Justin hadn’t pretended to be the waiter in charge of refilling his ice bucket.  
  
“Hey,” Justin said, once he’d tricked Lance into opening the door. He stuck a hand out when Lance tried to slam it shut again. “Lance, come on. You know you lose every time we do this.”  
  
“Fuck you,” Lance retorted. But he stopped trying, folding his arms across his chest as he leaned against the door. “Are you actually comparing a broken CD case to _this_?”   
  
Justin looked pained. “No, I just—”  
  
“Save it, Justin,” Lance interrupted. He sounded surprisingly sober, even to himself. It was really easy to channel anger after fifteen rounds of beer. “You’ve already explained that you’re sick of sharing the limelight with four other people. I don’t need to hear it twice.”  
  
“Lance,” Justin said, quietly. Lance heard the hitch in his voice nonetheless. “Now you’re just being cruel.”  
  
Lance’s eyes were hard, and the edge in his voice was harder still. “Maybe. But you’ve got the market cornered on that one.”   
  
  
  
Much to Lance’s surprise, nothing was said about his conversation with Justin, not even by Chris, who’d followed him back to LA after the wedding. It didn’t make sense, because Justin tended to be a bit of a whiner, and Chris was his willing audience, and nothing - _nothing_ \- was going to change that. But Lance wasn’t about to complain if Chris was willing to let it go.  
  
And letting it go was exactly what Chris was doing. In fact, he was doing such a stand up job of it that Lance forgot about the fact that his phone was supposed to be unhooked, and he picked up without thinking when it rang a couple of days later.  
  
“Hey,” JC said.  
  
Lance froze, then turned an icy glare on Chris, who was sprawled out on the couch, eating popcorn and watching the Disney Channel. “Hey,” he replied, after a second.  
  
“I, uh. I just wrapped up a meeting with Jive about my next album,” JC said. He sounded guilty. Lance wondered if he was imagining things.   
  
“Yeah?”  
  
“They said they’d draw up a list of producers for me to choose from.”  
  
“I’m – that’s great, C,” Lance said. He waited to feel something – betrayed, maybe, or anger – but it didn’t come, and Lance fought down a rising wave of panic.  
  
JC hesitated when Lance didn’t say anything else. “I tried looking for you at the wedding. You know, after…”   
  
JC trailed off, and _that_ prompted a reaction, one Lance was frankly getting pretty tired of. Dammit, he didn’t want to have this conversation. He looked around the room, then snatched up one of the (many) empty sweet wrappers that Chris had left lying on the floor. He ignored Chris’ frown as he crumpled it up into a ball above the receiver. “C? C? Dude, you’re breaking up. Hello? Hello?”  
  
“Lance? Hello?”  
  
Lance gave the paper ball one last crinkle, and hung up.  
  
  
  
“So.” Chris said, during dinner that night, and Lance looked up, expression carefully blank. He’d figured they’d be having this talk sooner or later, figured that from the time Chris had barged into his house and demanded to stay. “Why JC?”  
  
Lance blinked. Okay. He hadn’t expected that one. “What?”  
  
Chris waved his hands dismissively. “I mean, I get why you’re pissed at Justin. The way he sprung it on us? Yeah, that was moronic, selfish, asshat behavior. But why JC?”   
  
Lance glared at the table, refusing to reply. He wasn’t going to think about what had happened at the wedding, either.  
  
“It’s not entirely his fault, you know,” Chris pointed out. Lance lifted his head long enough to glare at him, and for a second, Chris faltered. Then he shook his head. “Look, kid. You went straight from high school to N’sync. It took a lot of work, but you have no idea what it’s like out there. But you know what JC’s been through. Of course he had a back-up plan.”  
  
Lance frowned. It always surprised him when Chris sounded his age, mostly because it didn’t happen very often.  
  
Chris leaned back in his seat, drumming his fingers against the table. “You know, if you’re going to be pissed at JC, you should be pissed at me too.”  
  
Lance shrugged. He couldn’t hold it against Chris for wanting out. Justin and Chris were… well, they were Justin and Chris. It would be like JC asking him to go on being a part of N’sync without Joey. It just wouldn’t happen.  
  
“You know,” Chris said, after they’d been silent for a moment. “Whatever your hang up is – and I know it’s more than what you’re letting on, Bass – you’re going to have to forgive them someday.”  
  
Lance didn’t know what to say to that.  
  
It didn’t feel like it was going to happen anytime soon.  
  
  
  
Strangely enough, the discussion Lance had had with Chris – if it could be called that – didn’t put a damper on the time they spent together over the next few days. It was getting to the point that Lance left Chris to do the little things, like grocery shopping, or picking up the mail, while he went to work. They’d have dinner together when he got home in the evening, and after, Chris would coax him into playing a round or five of Halo before heading to bed. It was becoming routine, and Lance liked routine.   
  
He liked it so much, in fact, that he was completely thrown when JC showed up unannounced on his doorstep, a couple of days after their phone call.  
  
“Hey Lance,” JC murmured.  
  
Lance searched for something to say for a second. “Hey,” he replied, finally. “I didn’t – what are you doing here?”  
  
Chris’ sudden cry of, “ha! I just wiped your name off the top ten list!” interrupted whatever JC was about to say, and both him and Lance turned to look at Chris, who was still crowing. “You owe me ten bucks and — C?”  
  
“Hey, Chris,” JC’s smile was tight, and he didn’t take his eyes off Lance.  
  
Chris raised his hands in the air. “Hey, I can take a hint. I’ll be out of your hair in a couple of x-box games.”  
  
JC fixed Chris with a look, and after a second, Chris caved. “Fine,” he grumbled. “I’ll go pack. Bass, you can drop me off at the airport tomorrow morning.”  
  
Lance barely heard him. God, he couldn’t believe he’d forgotten how their dynamic worked. JC always had the last say when it came to the important things. No one trusted Chris with big decisions. “Come on,” he said at last, tilting his head a little. “We can talk inside.”  
  
Ten minutes later, JC was sitting at Lance’s kitchen table, watching Lance boil a pot of tea. Lance tried not to think about the fact that they were the only two people in the room. “So,” he said, to break the silence, as he turned around and leaned his hip on the kitchen counter. “What are you doing here?”  
  
JC cracked a smile. “Rescuing you,” he offered. “I heard from Justin that Chris was here, so I figured I’d check in on you two. See if he’d caused any permanent damage.”  
  
“Oh,” Lance said, curtly. He turned back to the stove. Behind him, he heard JC sigh.  
  
“Look, Lance. I know you’re still upset about the group, but you can’t ignore me forever.” Out of the corner of his eye, Lance could see movement, and he just knew JC was pinching the bridge of his nose. “Eventually, I’m gonna wear you down.”  
  
Lance tried, he really did, but he couldn’t muster up the energy for anger. Wearily, he turned around to meet JC’s gaze. “What is this, C?” he asked. “Justin gets to end the group, and the rest of us aren’t allowed a little time to mourn?”   
  
JC stood, suddenly, and shook his head. “This isn’t mourning, Lance.” Suddenly, Lance’s heart was pounding. “You’re running scared, and I think I have a pretty good idea why.” JC was advancing on him now, one slow step at a time, and all Lance could do was let him. JC made it so easy to forget how observant he actually was.  
  
“JC…”  
  
“No, listen, I know it’s scary, okay?” JC shrugged, helplessly. “But I can’t – I need to do this. I can’t keep hiding behind the group. I deserve to do something for me.” JC’s mouth was drawn in a tight line, and he looked about as exhausted as Lance felt. Lance shook his head, confused, and JC’s expression softened. He brushed his fingers briefly over Lance’s jaw, and Lance’s mouth _ached_. He stepped back, quickly, and JC’s hand fell back to his side.  
  
It was all too easy to imagine the expression on JC’s face, and Lance couldn’t make himself look up. “Maybe it’s time you do something for yourself, too.”  
  
  
  
Chris and JC flew back to New York the next day – JC for another meeting Jive, and Lance didn’t even ask Chris for his reasons – leaving Lance more confused than ever. He’d tried to focus on saying goodbye to Chris, but he kept replaying the scene he’d shared with JC in the kitchen, and what JC had said about doing something for himself. He’d done Russia, hadn’t he? He had his own production company. He’d starred in his own movie. What else was left?  
  
He just couldn’t figure it out, and he was driving himself crazy trying. The best person to call in those kinds of situations was Joey. And Joey was always available for his friends, no matter what the situation. It was one of the reasons they were best friends, and, Lance hoped, one of the reasons Kelly had married him. Joey picked up on the fourth ring, and Lance launched right into it. “So how’s the honeymoon?”  
  
“Fucking insane,” Joey snorted quietly. Lance heard the sound of bed sheets rustling in the background, and then footsteps padding across the floor, and a door sliding shut. “Man, I have no idea why I didn’t do this sooner.”  
  
Lance grinned. “Yeah, me neither. Why _did_ it take you this long to chain yourself down?”  
  
“Fuck off, asshole,” Joey laughed. “So tell me, what’s up? I know you didn’t call just to hear about the sordid details. Although, if you did? Just say the word.”  
  
“Freak,” Lance rolled his eyes affectionately. “No, listen, sorry we didn’t really talk at the wedding.”  
  
“It’s not like we’re not talking now,” Joey replied, flippantly. There was a short, telling pause. “Speaking of which, have you talked to JC and Justin lately?”  
  
Lance was silent for a second. Suddenly, talking about this didn’t seem like such a great idea. “JC came over yesterday,” he said eventually.  
  
“Yeah?” Lance knew that tone. Joey only used that tone when he was trying to sound casual. “What happened?”  
  
Lance shrugged, forgetting for a second that Joey couldn’t see him.  
  
“Where’s he now?”  
  
“Back in New York.”  
  
Another pause. “Lance? Come on, man, you’re not seriously still pissed off about this.”  
  
Everything Lance had just formulated in his head about JC and the things he’d said the previous night flew right out of Lance’s head. He couldn’t even believe what he was hearing. “Are you saying you aren’t?”  
  
“Yeah,” Joey said, after a moment of consideration. “Yeah, that’s exactly what I’m saying. It’s been seven great years, man. I mean, we can’t all be the Backstreet Boys, you know?”  
  
Lance actually snorted at that. “Fuck you.”  
  
“You know, I don’t think Kelly would be too happy about that.”  
  
Lance laughed. If nothing else, he knew he would always be able to count on Joey for that. That, and pointing out the obvious without making him feel like a complete jackass.  
  
  
  
Lance spent the next two weeks mulling over things. He wasn’t sure about _what_ things, exactly, but a lot of it involved JC, and Justin, and the group, and the burden of keeping secrets. He thought about Joey’s wedding, too, and the girl at the bar, and why he was pissed off at all.  
  
It didn’t take long to figure out what was really eating at him. Sure, he’d buried it for seven years; hell, he’d kissed maybe one guy in all that time, but it wasn’t something he forgot about. Wanting someone didn’t work like that. Part of Lance still didn’t want to have to deal with it. Except that after weeks of living with Chris, he could almost imagine him saying, “ _Jesus_ , Bass! I taught you better than that!” and even a mental version of Chris calling him out was enough of a sign for Lance to know he couldn’t put it off anymore.  
  
It was his turn to drop in uninvited.  
  
So he did.  
  
He didn’t give JC time to speak once the door was opened, just pushed his way inside and shut the door behind him, leaning against it because it felt like his legs were ready to give out from under him. JC watched him carefully, but other than that, didn’t protest.  
  
“I thought about what you said,” Lance muttered, rubbing his palms on his jeans. His throat was dry. “You know, about – about doing something for myself. And I didn’t – I couldn’t figure out what you meant, at first.”  
  
Lance sucked in a long breath, but JC didn’t interrupt, and he was so very grateful for that. For a second, he wasn’t sure if he could go on. God, what if he was wrong, and JC hadn’t meant that at all? “You were right, you know,” he heard himself say, before he could change his mind. “About this. About hiding behind the band.”  
  
“But I’m not ready yet,” Lance said. God, his hands were shaking. “Not to – to do what you’re doing. I mean, an album is one thing. But this? Me? I just – I don’t know how to do deal with this publicly. But I – I wanted to tell you…” Lance was tilting his face up to meet JC’s before he finished his sentence.  
  
Then JC kissed him, soft and slow, and heat seemed to seep from where his hands were resting gently on Lance’s hips into Lance’s stomach, before fanning out right to his fingertips. Lance made a quiet, quiet noise, and one of JC’s hands flew to the back of his neck, holding him steady.  
  
“I know,” JC breathed, when they finally pulled away, eyes wide and intense and so very, very blue. Lance’s voice caught in his throat, and he found himself reaching for JC again without realizing that he was doing it. JC’s thumb skimmed his lower lip, and just before they leaned in again, Lance heard him murmur, “One day, maybe.”  
  
  
  
Lance had always been good at keeping track of their schedule. It was two and a half years after the beginning of the end, and he still had individual folders for each of the guys in his PDA, with a calendar of events that he and Beth took turns filling out. He was pretty sure he still knew their itinerary better than they did.  
  
Which was why Justin’s dropping in on him for a visit was completely unexpected. He really needed to work on that.  
  
“Hey.”  
  
“Hey,” Lance replied. “I didn’t – aren’t you supposed to be on set?”   
  
Justin laughed, clearly surprised. “I – yeah, but we wrapped up early.” He hesitated. “Can I come in?”  
  
“Babe,” JC called, from the bedroom. “Who is it?”  
  
Lance glanced from Justin to the corridor leading to the bedroom, and back again. Justin’s hands were shoved deep in his pockets, and Lance could tell that he was _this_ close to worrying at his lower lip. His mouth quirked up, just a hint, as he stepped back and opened the door a little wider.   
  
“I think you’ll want to see for yourself,” he called back.  
  
Justin actually smiled, then, and Lance had a sudden flash of everything that they’d been through. The things they’d seen, the places they’d been, the people they’d met. Sure, Justin had said he wasn’t feeling the group anymore, but…  
  
One day, maybe.


End file.
